Winter Frost
by Silver Orbed Lioness
Summary: Romangst: Hermione storms off after being given the cold shoulder by Harry. She slumps down against a tree and begins crying - not all Horcruxes accept blood as sacrifices - this one calls to the Dark Lord personally. When she finds out she has accidentally called upon Lord Voldemort they make a bargain, but what is hidden within the magical contract? Triggers inside.
1. Jaded Heart

**AN** : I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, they still belong to JK Rowling, I sometimes wish she'd lend me Lucius from time-to-time.

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A big shout out to my beta, **Vino Amore** , who spotted what was missing and made me write more.

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 **Triggers:** Mind Control, Dub-Con, Dark!Grey Hermione, May-December relationships, Attempted Suicide, Actual Suicide, Charming Vodemort, Infedility.

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 **Winter Frost**

 _I didn't know you, but I could see it in your eyes_ _  
_ _Shattered dreams and hopes, you'd been hurt too many times_

 **DOKKEN** – _Jaded Heart_

 **Jaded Heart**

There was a lot going on in Hermione Granger's life. It seemed that the Magical world was not all just rainbows and unicorns. In fact the first unicorn she'd seen was dead on it's side. Then again, being friends with Harry Potter was a 24/7 deal. No one could say that it was an easy job t0 have, Harry was high maintenance, for a variety of reasons. One of those reasons; a pretty big one, was that he was Undesirable No1, he was the half-blood son of a prestigious family. His family made money in the patency of all sorts of potions, not to mention the portion Black left him. Yet all that gold would not stop the Darkest Lord of all time, hunting for his blood.

Her second problem was a certain red-haired nit-wit who had the nerve to leave her and Harry to fend for themselves, shivering in the cold, in a cabbage scented tent. The bloody bastard, she hoped that if he decided to show some backbone and come back to them he'd think to bring some flipping food with him. Hermione was disgusted with Ronald's attitude. It had served to cool her ardour for him.

Things were bad for another reason: Harry was sulking around her because she had accidentally broken his wand in the scuffle at the late Bathilda Bagshot's house. Nagini, she might have known. How else could he hear the voice and not she – yet, as ever, she followed where he led – what did she get for her troubles? A stroppy Harry. She could understand Professor Snape's frustration with him, the disrespect he had shown to her, who had been nothing but a friend irked her and she was reaching boiling point.

"Who am I, then?" she muttered as she angrily stormed further into the woods. "The spare!" she snarled kicking at some tree roots. "That is all I ever will be, a spare!"

It was a particularly hilly section of the Forest of Dean, she and Harry found themselves in. Last night, whilst Harry was sleeping, Hermione found she had taken them between a quaint village called Bream, and a sort of tired looking town called Lydney.

The part she came across looked like a part of an abandoned mine, moss and lichen covered over giant boulders, sparkling with ice. Hermione wondered at the beauty of the green held within the diamanté gleam of the frost on the rough-hewed stone surfaces. An ethereal contrast that reminded her of a certain Slytherin alumni's eyes.

The entire area was surrounded by trees. Light would not reach this place in Summer, Hermione thought as she looked up to the sky. There was a slight slope, she still had some anger to work out so she decided to climb further up the incline. Getting further and further away from her tents, and wards. Leaving herself open to anyone who may find her. There she came upon a frozen stream and stared around for a tree to settle against. She did and slipped down the trunk landing on her rear in sharp thump that caused her to wince.

"MONTY!" A girl's voice yelled. She sounds like she is of my age, Hermione sighed, "MONTY, GET BACK HERE!"

Cautiously, Hermione peered around the tree trunk and, indeed, did see a teenage girl, holding what looked like a leather lead, and a big floppy King Charles Spaniel rushing through the dead forest. They were dangerously near. Still, she was a muggle, and Hermione did not want to harm her.

"Monteith Montgomery De Montfort, will you, for once, do as you're told and HEEL!"

Enviously, Hermione watched this girl. This ordinary muggle girl with seemingly ordinary problems walking her admittedly handsome dog, no wonder at the long name, it suited him. She allowed a small smile to come through at the scene. She wished she could join them. Talk to the girl, see what things she liked, if they had anything in common. Yet, she knew she couldn't. Slowly, she turned around and began sobbing. The Locket had slipped from it's place underneath her scarf. It was harder to keep stoic, to go through this journey, when she caught snippets of normality.

She did not notice a tear fall from her eye onto the locket, nor the light green glow as it seemed to absorb the tear. The girl huffed as she fussed her pet behind the long flopping curly ears, Hermione really wished she could do that. The dog looked dopey as heck.

"Oh, Monty, what are we gonna do with you, eh?" the girl laughed.

The dog's pants could be heard where Hermione was hiding. She watched as the girl turned on her heel and walked back the way she came. Waiting until she was definitely out of sight before she even allowed herself to breathe properly.

"Why me?" she asked herself bumping the back of her head against the trunk rolling her eyes. "Why does it have to be me? I was supposed to be Head Girl. I should be studying for my N.E. . I should be curling up in a squishy red chair, with a book, a big cup of hot chocolate, some biscuits and Crookshanks on my lap purring heavily," if she was guilty about her bout of self-pity it did not show. Hermione felt entitled to a moment of selfishness. "I should be writing a thank you letter to the Weasley's for a lovely jumper, the home-made flapjack, and quills. I should be thanking McGonagall for the new books she purchased for me."

More tears fell and hit the locket, the glow appeared again, still unnoticed by Hermione as she continued monologuing to the trees it seemed. Wet lashes drooped as more slipped down her cheeks. Still she did not notice the glow it emitted when the saltwater fell from her eyes. She could feel the start of a sobbing fit and decided it was worthless to try and control it. People should be able to cry in privacy. For her it was the only time to show this sort of emotion.

"I sh-should be looking forward to s-seeing my p-parents," here she broke down.

Shoulders shook with the force of emotion. Pearly droplets continued their descent onto the Locket. It was absorbing each and every one, soaking them in like a sponge. The green glow darkened with each and every part of her she unwittingly sacrificed to it. She did not feel guilty for probably causing Harry concern. He seemed to prefer Ron over her so she doubted he'd think twice about her if she left him. Eventually she wiped the tears from her face.

"I wish things were the way they should be," she shuddered out. "Is that really so awful of me to... for me to be that... I could be so... so... selfish?"

It was only now she saw the pendant dangling over her top rather than tucked in, like it was supposed to be. Instead of re tucking the pendant back into her scarf she laid the locket in the palm of her hand. Her tears of pity were converted to ones of anger as she curled her hand over the metal forming a fist.

"This is all your fault!" she spat shaking the fist.

Silently, she wished she could just throw the bloody thing away but she knew that would not work. Like the one ring – there will always be someone who would hear it – and it could be a Muggle; she thought about that girl. Clearly a local, as she felt comfortable here, what if _she_ found it? No, Hermione could not throw it away. Instead, she berated herself for her moment of weakness, as she continued staring at the hexed jewellery.

"You really think Salazar Slytherin would have approved, because I do not," she affected her bossiest tone she could muster. "He would have wanted you to do great things, yes, but he would also have rather you found a way to bring the Slytherin line back to the way he desired it. I doubt he'd want this," tears just streamed out of her, there was _so much_ tormenting her heart lately that it felt good to finally let it all out. "I know you are a complicated wizard, but why? Why did you feel this was necessary?"

She willed in her heart that she could hear an answer come from it. Gods, it nattered enough in her head when she slept with it on, but wide-awake and it was as silent as the grave. Hermione refused to give into frustration. Instead she squared her shoulders and tried to bring back her logical side. The one that always won out in the end. None of her emotional decisions caused her any happiness.

"What is it like to not feel?" she asked it. "To not have love in your heart? To not know what it is to have someone like you for you and not what they can get out of you?" A deep sigh left her as she rolled the locket around her forefinger and thumb. "What is that like? I have a good imagination but even I cannot put myself in that black hole, that nothingness inside. Does the sound of the first birds in spring make you happy? Or does it make you wish you could kill all birds and Spring while you are at it?"

She hugged her knees into her chest, resting her chin on the perch they created whilst holding the locket directly in front of her eyes. Scrutinising the trinket: "It's a shame, you sounded like someone I could have talked to," her eyes misted over. "When I found your picture in the Year Books, you were stunningly beautiful. I suppose it is true what they say about fallen Angels," she raised the locket to her mouth and brushed the cool metal against her chapped lips. "Why?" she asked. "So handsome, full of ideals, clever, you could have been content in taking the world a bit at a time – you had the charm to do so, _Tom_ ," the muggle name fell from her lips in a shudder of emotions as she tried to fight off the last of her tears. "Imagine us taking study sessions together in the library," she whispered. "Walking around the Lake above your common Room to discuss the latest content in such and such a journal. Maybe even," she blushed at the thought, "hand-in-hand, we'd have been... oh what is the use of fantasising, not one of my dreams so far seems to have come true."

"Why Miss Granger, no truer words ever were spoken!"

Hermione, startled over hearing the slightly high pitched sibilant tone. Definitely different to the coffee and cream of the Horcrux whisper in her ear. Immediately she tried to reach for her wand before realising Harry had it – his need for one was greater than hers – so she thought.

"H-How I-I..."

"Did you cry?" he softened his tone to try and keep her calm.

The Dark Lord, for it was he, stooped down to her level. Watching with light amusement as she used her hands in a backwards scuttle. Observing how her eyes widened in fear. Normally, he would have smirked, but he did not want this witch to be afraid of him. It seems he'd have to bring Tom out to play.

"Y-yes. I did," she stammered. "W-what of it?"

"You gave a piece of yourself to the Horcrux, it accepted the sacrifice and you said the name I went by when it was created," he smiled kindly. A small lift of his shoulder was to affect an air of self-deprecation, this was spoiled though, as a small smirk spread across his lips. "You spoke to my Horcrux therefore you were speaking to me. I came to you upon the moment the tears were accepted, I have heard all your musings to Tom."

"So," she tried to sound brave. "That's it, I'm dead," she sighed despondently. "I..." she was stopped by a sound from her companion/enemy.

A deep chuckle emanated from deep within and lightened the red eyes to an almost pinkish hue. Hermione gulped down her fears as the Darkest Lord of all stood over her, giggling like she made the best joke in all history. This annoyed her so she frowned at him.

"No," he sighed as he raked his gaze over her body. Yes, this definitely called for Tom. "Dear one," he sighed, his tone had deepened slightly. "You are not to be killed by me, I have other fish to fry."

"So you're going to foist me on one of your Death Eaters?"

"Wrong again, Miss Granger," he sighed as he glided up to her.

"Torture me?"

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes and offered his hand: "Unless you wish to freeze to the forest floor, I suggest you accept my hand."

Hermione chewed this over. After some deliberation, she bravely let him stand her up the Muggle way, rolling her eyes as she did so to prove she was not buying his Nice Guy act. Once on her feet she narrowed her eyes at him. He continued looking at her with unconcealed smugness, Hermione began to feel little in his presence, her eyes darted to find a way to escape.

"So," she sighed as she worried her lower lip, a habit that proved her youth to him, still he did find it endearing. "To sum up, you do not want to kill me or torture me, and you also do not wish to hand me over to one of your Death Eaters to do so either."

"Correct, Miss Granger," he was amused. It was refreshing to have someone actively trying to guess his motive.

"It more than likely has something to do with this," she picked up the locket, laying the pendant in the gloved palm of her hand. "Your Horcrux?"

"Perhaps," he gave nothing away. "I love guessing games when I am not made to be the player, by all means, continue hypothesising Miss Granger."

She moved awkwardly in her spot, shifting her weight from side-to-side as she felt trapped by this Wizard, power came from him in waves. Like the water at tide on the beach, increasing and decreasing. Waxing and waning like the moon in the sky. Strangely enough Hermione felt herself revelling in the strength of _his_ Magical might as it orbited around her like the sun does the Earth. _He_ was the fiery sun to _her_ insignificant Earth. The one she must respect more than anyone else. Hermione knew she could learn from him. Lean on him. Hermione felt as if she had not seen Magic until this day. He surrounded her soul spiritually and Hermione suddenly held the desire to cocoon herself within the comforting nebulous of the one who awakened her senses; Lord Voldemort, who seemed to be unaware that he was wrapping his metaphorical self around her.

He stood there with his arms crossed, casually leaning against a tree, as his eyes roved up and down her wool clad body. She was magnificent, he thought, truly wonderful. It was said that the eyes are the window to the soul. If that was the case, he could peruse her soul all day long. Like him, she was an enigma, she did not fit neatly into a category. This alone made her an immediate interest of his. She may be small in stature, but there was such power bursting for release, her magic was frustrated with no outlet. Mingled with a willingness to learn, he gleaned that much from Severus, and she aimed for success. A soupçon of ambition interspersed with the aim to please, he sighed, oh how he could utilise _that_ quality to its utter limit. She was right, he could see them debating well into the night over journals, essays as they drank wine in bed. Bed... Yes, she was worthy of that honour. Pleasure could be fulfilled in a variety of delicious ways and he was prepared to even show the dark side to lust.

He was always on the lookout for new Soldiers, new trainees, new disciples of the dark. This little muggleborn witch before him held so much potential. Immediately upon his arrival he could sense her adumbral aura; vague, spectral, there but hazily indistinct. The witch held within her the potential to be _someone_ under his guidance. Calming himself as he glimpsed at the pinhole sized, jet shade of her soul. Delving into the depths of her crepuscular core soothed his own centre. She had been tainted by the Dark, he discovered in her presence, it suited her well. Not all wizards and witches were suited for the Dark Arts, yet this muggleborn had already tentatively welcomed the Dark in.

"Any more guesses, my dear?"

Hermione suddenly drew herself to her fullest height, squared her shoulders, and looked him directly in the eye. Bravely facing him, even if there was a slight tremor to her hands, a small timorous shiver in her body. Her voice was clear and calm as she spoke. He adored the way her eyes sparkled like a smooth cup of coffee whilst her little chin jutted out defiantly at him.

"I am _not_ going to betray Harry!"

"Hmm," he mused as he tapped his middle finger on his lips, making her nervous with his pretence at considering that statement. "That could have been a possibility."

"I mean it, sir!"

He loved to hear her state her respect without a quibble. This girl may aim to please but she was not a sycophantic coward. He'd had _them_ by the score. This one had a different sort of potential. A Queen, a Warrior, she was not a simpering dolt.

"Calm yourself, Miss Granger, I was only teasing," his smile was not for the faint of heart and Hermione was not weakened by fear at the sight of it. She looked at him warily as he continued being reasonable with her. "I am not going to ask that of you," he stepped closer towards her. Hermione's feet tried to sluggishly step back, but her legs and brain seemed to have had an argument, causing her to remain where she was. Once he was directly in front of her, red eyes boring into her cinnamon orbs, he reached his arm up and, with his index finger, he tilted her chin up. "In fact, your loyalty is what I admire most about you."

She held in a deep breath as he moved his other hand; using his fingernails to push aside a lock of curly hair that had escaped her woollen fair-isle bobble hat, tenderly tucking it back inside. Her lips parted where air spiralled in clouds in front of them. He was gazing fondly at her, like he had lost her a long time ago and found her by accident. Hermione was aware of whom she was in company with, but she just wanted to stay there, to talk to him. There never would be another opportunity again. Curiosity killed the cat, and boy was Hermione as curious about the Dark Lord, she wanted to hear things from his perspective. Damn her inquisitive nature but she could not stop herself. This was the most dangerous wizard alive, and yet, all se wanted to do was get to know him.

"I-I d-did not m-mean..." she stammered. "I-I a-am... I-I..."

He laid another finger over her quivering lips as he tilted his head to the side. Now he was closer to her, touching her, the inner-gloom of her core seemed to call to him, singing its siren song for his ears only. Yes, the Dark was calling to him to free it. To allow it this witch. Yes, he knew exactly what he wanted from her now. The research he had read about her was enough to intrigue him. Now he was face-to-face with her, there was so much more he wished to know. All of it could lead to something so much more. Age did not matter when one strove for immortality. It bothered him little. Confidently, he brushed her lips with the tips of his fingers, trailing the nails along her jawline and down her neck. Ending at the base of her skull, where stray curls coiled around his hand and wrist. Closing his eyes he breathed in the redolence of the jaded heart.

"What am I going to do with you, Miss Granger?" he asked. If she could, Hermione would have laughed as his words mirrored the Muggle girl's to her dog. That was what she was to him. A pet dog. "Oh not quite that lowly, you are, after all, a witch of great potential. I _do_ research my enemies thoroughly, and I feel that you and I would do well to have a discussion. Besides, I can feel you are as curious about me as I am about you?"

Hermione gulped. "About what?" she murmured. He arched a brow. "What do you wish to discuss?" her stammer lost now.

The Dark Lord noticed how she immediately humbled herself before him. Irritated by the bow of her head meekly tilted down. Aggravated by her muted, respectful tone. Annoyed how her posture was without poise. Normally, he would have found this delicious. From his past observations he noted that she was a proud witch. She did not care what was said about her. He hid his disappointment as he watched the defiance leave the young witch, now she resembled a frightened rabbit to his predatory fox, that would have to change.

He had to put her at ease somehow. If he could bargain to make an exception for Lily Evans, he most certainly could make one for this wonderful, powerful little thing in front of him. To his mind she was far superior to that ungrateful crow anyhow, and to this day could not fathom Severus' fascination with _her_ , when there were witches of the same ilk with far more panache to them. Now Tom make your appearance, the Dark Lord's aspect changed. He was now affecting a debonair mien and a nonchalant stance.

" _To talk of other things_ ," he said. " _Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings,_ " he quoted.

" _Alice Through The Looking Glass_ ," she offered a small smile. He began to like making her blush. The Horcruxes did not un-man him in the least. In fact those urges were more visceral in nature. Tom loved that side-effect. "I knew that story off by heart at 6."

"So, what is the next line then, my dear lioness?"

" _Why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings_ , I think," she blushed.

"Now," he had taken her hand without her noticing. Whilst she was quoting he trailed one hand down her arm, surreptitiously distracting her, so he could lace his long digits within her tiny elegant fingers. "Why do we not go somewhere warmer," Hermione gulped as she remembered Harry. "Where there is food and drink, you need some looking after do you not?"

"I am not going anywhere with you!" her mind and defiance had returned.

Noting their entwined hands, she tried to shove him away but he held firm. He was stronger than her and she eventually stopped struggling. She wanted to scream but found she couldn't. For some reason she was here, with the Dark Lord, who was being somewhat charming around her and _liking_ his company. Was there something wrong with that? Hermione knew there should be but she was finding it hard to care.

"I am afraid, my dear, you do not have a choice," Lord Voldemort smiled. Lazily stroking a finger down her cheek, leaving her skin tingling in its wake, leaving the digit on the softest flesh of her throat. "It is not often I find a natural Dryad in this country, not one that is as challenging and intelligent as you are, nor one as pleasing to the eye."

Hermione found a tightening of an arm around her waist. "I d-don't th-think..."

"Shush, my dear, how is this then," he pulled her firmly against his body enjoying how she felt in his embrace. He especially loved how she wriggled and squirmed. "I, Lord Voldemort, do make a promise that neither I – nor my followers – shall treat Hermione Jean Granger with scorn, disrespect, or derision – I shall abide by this contract and expect my followers to treat her as if she were..." he halted as to what to say then he smiled. "My _Queen_!"

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, do hold thee; Lord Voldemort, to thy promise. On my own Magic, I swear to treat you the same as thou treats me. I do agree on the condition my friend and brother by choice, Harry James Potter, will not ever be harmed during our Peace Treaty. Set in accord by Lord Voldemort and agreed upon by Hermione Jean Granger," she said, holding her hand out. "Do you, Lord Voldemort, agree to my decree of this Vow of Peace?"

"I do agree to all terms set forth within the Vow of Peace to thee, Hermione Jean Granger," the Dark Lord smiled almost kindly. "As you shall be under my, Lord Voldemort's, protection – so shall it be done!"

The effect was instantaneous as they shook hands as their magic took a tangible quality. Hermione watched, awestruck by the colours surrounding them as the vow took hold. Mesmerised by the gold and silver swirls mingling within an emerald cloud that whirled vehemently around them. The phenomena stopped as suddenly as it started. Hermione turned her head finding herself under his intense scrutiny.

Dark eyes met her, deliciously Orphic, as enticing as coffee clouds over a chocolate scent. His complexion was a little more pink than blue or white. What had _he_ done? No. What had _she_ done? What had _they_ done? Suddenly she found herself pulled toward him and he turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest, long arms trapped her to his body, the way a boa constrictor coils around its prey.

"We have just entered a binding Magical Contract," he murmured. "I shall treat you now as my equal, which is why I said _Queen_ ," his lips spoke close to her ear. She shuddered happily as she was still euphoric over the magic that they had invoked. "Only a witch I consider an equal would be my Queen," he pressed his surprisingly warm lips against the shell of her ear. Enjoying how her chest expanded with her heavy breaths. Adrenaline coursed through their veins. He wished to take her now but this one needed the darkness coaxed and seduced slowly into her. "My followers will know better than to desecrate you on this day."

"What day is it, exactly?" she gulped.

"My dear Hermione," the tongue flickered out with the changing of syllables in her name against the highest end of her cheek bone. "It's Christmas, of course," he was almost purring. "Come, the Malfoys always put on an excellent feast at Christmas time. Oh do not worry about how you will be treated, my followers know how I would react if they so much as hissed that word within fifty feet of you."

Suddenly, Hermione found she trusted him. Trusted his word to keep her safe. "Well," she sighed trying to be as nonchalant as one could be when pressed against the most wand happy Wizard in all of History, "they do say the safest place during a tempest is to be in the eye of it."

"Ah, that's the spirit," he smirked against the soft flesh of her neck flicking his tongue out. Delighted to discover that she tasted sinfully good; red wine, cinnamon, oranges and dark chocolate. He frowned slightly as he remembered the one and only other time he inhaled that mixture of scents. Merlin, he grinned against her neck, she was his _Armontentia_! Charm may not be needed. "When I was your age that would have been regarded as the Bull Dog or the Churchillian spirit."

"My grandfather was a fighter pilot in that war," she said trying to keep her voice even and controlled. "I guess some things are in the blood, though I would have to be Artillery or Logistics."

Lord Voldemort smiled properly then. Ecstatically thrilled that he had found her before his thugs did. He knew how to charm. Even in this form he could, so long as he coaxed Tom out to play, Tom clearly liked this witch. He intended to keep his vow _to the letter_ and the first Death Eater to so much as sneer at her would be Avada Kedavared on the spot. Happy Christmas to me, he smirked as he breathed in more of her scent, if I play my wits well, it will be a happy birthday too.

"Now, how do you feel about flying?" he whispered in her ear.

Hermione did not like that his hands had found themselves under her many layers to her skin. Butterflies fluttered, nerves were on edge, sparks ignited under his warm touch. She fidgeted a little as one long finger edged further up to her breasts whilst another fiddled with her jean button. He loved how she squirmed in his arms trying to loosen his hold on her. He responded by tightening his hold more and by reaching further up towards her breast.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Let's ascend the trees and float amongst the clouds," he said as he prepared himself and the witch with him.

"What – I..."

Before she could finish her refusal, she was caught in an inky black swirl of cloud, floating miles above the trees. Hermione wanted to scream. She hung on for dear life as he held her in his arms. She closed her eyes and wondered if Aled Jones had a sadistic streak in him. _Walking in the Air_ indeed, she sneered, trying to hide her fear. This is terrifying. At least Aled had a friendly Snowman. I've got a bloody Dark Lord!

"Don't worry," he murmured as they continued to glide amongst the iron grey clouds. "You are too precious for me to let go."

Far too precious, he mused, I have been waiting a long time for this moment. Lord Voldemort conveniently evaded one issue about the contract he'd entered into with the little witch. He could not wait for the look on her face when she found out she'd been tricked. Or, as he wished to view it, subtly told the right direction her life should take. To the casual observer it would seem they had entered into a rather one-sided bargain with him bearing the brunt of it. A Slytherin though would have listened carefully for what was _unsaid_ in the process.

They landed in a whirlwind of black smoke in front of an ancient home. Hermione guessed 12th or 13th Century. White peacocks graced the fields as a smoky haze shimmered from the ground, a beautiful spectre to increase the fear. Wherever she was, she knew the wards would not welcome her in, Hermione cringed further into her captor's embrace.

"Malfoy Manor," Lord Voldemort tickled her ear answering her unasked query. "I have a feeling this is going to prove most informative and definitely tortuous for all my followers."

So, this is Malfoy Manor? "It's beautiful," she sighed. No wonder Draco always boasted. "I can feel the wards – one of them wants to burn me."

"You are safe and with me," the Dark Lord said. "I have placed a distraction charm on you so the Wards will become confused."

Hermione's legs wobbled beneath her, weakened from the flight eastwards from her camp, and tired from the cold air. Also, she found it exhausting being in Lord Voldemort's presence. The months on the run. The lack of food. The emotional trauma she'd expelled from her system before the Dark Lord arrived. Hurting as she watched the girl her age play with her pet. The inner discoveries. Along with the knowledge that she was close to a cabal of people who wanted her dead. She just wanted to sleep, perhaps when she awoke, she'd be back in the tent with Harry.

It was all too much, even for Hermione to take, she swooned against the body of Lord Voldemort. Unaware now of anything happening around them, Hermione laid limp in his embrace. Lord Voldemort grinned fondly upon her comatose form in his grasp. Tenderly, he lifted her by the back of her legs and held firmly to her as he strode into the foyer of Malfoy Manor.

Sensing the wards being weakened Lucius was already standing there, with his wife, son and sister-in-law. He rolled his eyes. It was wise of the girl to faint in his Lord's arms before rather than now.

"WHAT IS THAT!" Yelled Bellatrix. Suddenly she recognised the girl in her Lord's arms. "Is there to be a revel, My Lord?" her dark eyes glittered like black ice.

The Dark Lord ignored Bellatrix and turned to the calmly elegant Mistress of the Manor, Narcissa: "My dear Narcissa," he said warmly. "I must ask you to accommodate Miss Granger – situate her in the rooms next to mine – offer her the finest Malfoy hospitality for she shall be dining with us," he fixed his gaze firmly at Bellatrix, "as an equal," he said in a tone that brooked no argument but certainly a lot of pouting. "There is more to tell but not yet – Lucius, Draco, follow me!"

"My Lord, what am I to do?" Bellatrix curtsied so low it sickened Voldemort but as he past his most faithful, he laid a hand on her head, as he usually did. "You may help your sister, preparing our guest. She must be the jewel amongst the crowd, I have an announcement to make."

"Are we not to be aware of the nature of this announcement, my Lord?" Lucius asked, "So my wife will better understand the nature of our guest's attire and etiquette?"

"It shall be revealed in good time, Lucius, all shall be revealed in good time. Bellatrix – are you with me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Bella snarled.

So she was reduced to the status of a dress maid to a Mud... _Ouch_ , what was that? She reached up and touched her neck as she thought that slur. What had happened between her Lord and this... _Ow_ , again? Bellatrix glared hatefully at the witch in her Lord's arms.

"Oh and it is incumbent upon me to inform all of you," he fixed each and everyone with a firm, stern gaze, "that none of you are to call her _that term_ of which you, Bella, are especially fond of. She is to be considered as you would regard me, her orders are my orders – if she does not want to wear a dress, find another to her liking – I want her in the splendour she deserves and desires."

"Yes, My Lord!" they mumbled.

"I must be slightly deaf for I swore I saw your lips move but the only one I heard with absolute clarity was Narcissa," he pointed his wand at Bella, Lucius and Draco in turn. "Now say it and mean it!" he snarled.

"Yes, My Lord!" the voices were louder but Bella still sounded insincere in her acquiescence. "Bella, why does your insubordination not surprise me?" he sighed as he silkily drawled out a Crucio as if he was handing her a cookie. Bella twisted and writhed in agony. Pride in her blood and status as a Death Eater were her downfall in this regard for she refused to wince or scream. "CRUCIO!" he yelled eyes glowing bright red under the darkness of the torture. After five minutes he lifted the spell: "Next time," he knelt down to Bella's level. Taking pleasure at the sight of her frothing at the mouth. It was short-lived by the way she stared at him with such wide-eyed devotion he turned away in disgust: "I will leave it on you for 10 minutes, is that understood, Bellatrix?"

"Y-yes M-My L-Lord," her teeth chattered as she continued gazing in admiration. "I-I s-shall d-do a-as y-you c-command and treat Miss Granger with respect as I would you, my Lord."

"Good, does anyone else have any objections?"

The Malfoy men paled more than usual and shook their heads in silent obeisance. One the Dark Lord much preferred. Narcissa had picked up Hermione when her Lord put her down considerately on the floor.

"My Lord," Narcissa said. Elegantly bowing before him as she kept her tight hold on the limp girl in her arms. "The girl weighs nothing is she to be permitted food and drink?"

"Anything she desires she is to be given," he smiled down at Narcissa, yes she deviated from his original plan, but she was such a pleasant witch. Bellatrix was his favourite at one time but he'd switched to Narcissa as he observed her bare her downfall with dignity. For that alone, she deserved his respect. "Even if that means Draco," he looked at the young man who's eyes glittered hopefully. "Lucius," the older wizard affected a disinterested air, yet he was not fooling anyone, he wished to sample the young Gryffindor's carnal delights, "or," he fixed Bellatrix with such a spiteful sneer that she coward and trembled before him, "even Rodolphus."

"Yes my Lord."

The Dark Lord stroked Narcissa's cheeks fondly. "You have done well, my sweet little child," Narcissa kept her eyes lowered, on her knees. "Allow your mother's heart to take over for you and think of how you would like _her_ mother to treat _your_ son, Narcissa!"

"As you wish, so it shall be done," Narcissa murmured politely.

Bellatrix did not like this one iota but she was nothing if not loyal and if her Lord wanted them to play nice with the.. the... what was going on? Another short, sharp, shock whipped at her. Not saying the word was different to thinking it surely? Yet, as she did think on the word again to test her theory, another spark lashed viciously against her throat.

Oh, so her Lord entered a properly binding contract. They could not hurt the little... b.r... buurrr... buurrattt brat, wow – that was hard. Bellatrix did not wish to speak a slur if it took that much effort to _think_ it. Well, so her Lord was forcing her to play nice. She wondered what she had done to so disappoint her Lord.

"Why do you suppose our Lord is doing this, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked her sister.

The elegant blonde woman shook her head: "I do not know but we had all best do as our Lord commands," Narcissa advised. "I, for one, want to stay alive through this. So you had best put your interest in him aside for now and behave."

Bella sulked, hating it when Narcissa was right!

Hermione awoke later in a darkened room, on a soft bed, and the sounds of a bath being run. A rustling of skirts, mixed with voices muttering in harsh, rough whispers, showed that she was not alone. She vaguely recognised one of the voices but she did not hear it well enough to place a name to it. Groggily, she looked around and discovered she was in an opulent bedchamber, on a bed of silk and feathers, and a bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

Immediately, she sat up, regretting her actions as her head pounded and the room swayed violently in her vision, she flopped back down on the bed. A cornucopia of questions assaulted her brain.

Where was she? Was she in a vivid dream? Perhaps a nightmare that had yet to occur? More likely the latter, as she could only recall one thing: The last person to have been with her was the Dark Lord. That meant these voices belonged to followers. Followers who would kill her before they would look at her.

Hermione gulped in fright as she fumbled for her wand and panicked when she could not find it.

Helpless, alone, and likely to die. Hermione refused to cry...

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 **AN** : This will be Hermione multi. What do you think the Dark Lord meant by Queen? What will the reactions be to others of the inner-circle? What wasn't said by the vow he made. And what will Harry do now he is all alone? Answers in a review, please? Failing that, a postcard will do the trick...

 **Side Note** : I also have a Live Journal account, **SilverLioness80** if any of you also use LJ, feel free to friend me.


	2. The Knight In Distress

**AN** : This story is inspired by the characters and world invented by JK Rowling. No penny is earned in the making of this story.

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Shout out to **Vino Amore** \- my support and guide to this and most of my other stories x Also to my Facebook friend **Sona Pavlovna Uhlirova** \- for giving me some Russian pet names for  Dolohov x

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 **Chapter Triggers** : Attempted suicide, dark sarcasm, angst, unrequited love.

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Fancast:

 **Antonin Dolohov** : Colin Farrell

 **Abraxas Malfoy** : George Sanders

 **Narcissa Malfoy** : Joely Richardson

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 **Winter Frost**

Deep dark is His Majesty's kingdom  
A portent of tomorrow's world:

 **Devil and the Deep Dark Ocean**

Nightwish; Oceanborn

 **The Knight in Distress**

" _There is more to tell but not yet – Lucius, Draco, follow me!_ "

The two blond men glanced awkwardly at the other – keeping silent as the Dark Lord turned on his heel – they followed at a cautious, wary, pace. Keeping their steps in time with the other, quietly making sure that if he turned around they would be within his sights. They were well aware that he disliked the Inner Circle to act like a pack of rampaging bulls, they also knew what it would cost either of them if they objected to what their Lord told them to do. Lucius offered his son a silent hand on the shoulder for solidarity.

The Dark Lord swept into the study where a big painting of Abraxas quickly pushed a painted Milkmaid from another portrait off his lap and she scurried off. Hurrying to regain his dignified stance in front of his descendants.

"My Lord," Abraxas knelt on the floor.

"Even in death you serve me faithfully," The Dark Lord purred as he lazily stroked along the big mahogany desk situated in the centre of the magnificent room. "Abraxas, my first. I truly am still sorry for your death."

"Lucius my son," Abraxas smiled at the blond man, "Draco," Abraxas sneered, "the _disappointment_. You let Narcissa spoil him too much: Spare the rod, spoil the child."

Wincing as he remembered all too well the feel of Abraxas belt buckle on his backside, Lucius squeezed his son's bicep, almost ready to defend his wife and son.

"Tut tut, Abraxas, he has chances yet to prove his worth," Lord Voldemort said. "Narcissa is a lovely and devout woman."

Abraxas nodded and glanced again at Draco: "I suppose so," he did not seem to be too convinced. "How are you, runt?"

Draco was about to make a reply but it was clear the Dark Lord wished to consult with, (probably), the only wizard he ever considered a friend. Lord Voldemort shook his head. Yes, Draco was a disappointment to him also, but the boy succeeded where others failed, for that he was not fully bought to task.

"Abraxas," Voldemort sighed. "You remember when we were young."

"All the young girls swarming. You stepped out with a few," Abraxas smirked, he loved remembering former lovers with his Master and friend. "What of it?" Abraxas caught the withering look on his Master's face and shifted awkwardly in his painting. "Wish to teach my grandson what a woman actually is?"

"I have to admit that I am sorry I never settled down with one of those girls," he sighed. "Some of them were rather intelligent."

Abraxas arched a well groomed brow as his lips settled in an 'O' of shock: "You yourself mentioned that you were destined for far greater things than being a domestic husband and father," Abraxas breathed out. "Why this sudden need to..."

"I overheard someone say something today," the Dark Lord sank down on the large throne like chair behind the desk. The whole room was built for intimidation. Precisely why Lucius never used it. He converted an old, unused parlour into a more comfortable study. Still somewhat austere, however, it was designed for the odd cosy family discussion. "She was in the woods. She is an enemy, yet," he looked at the men in the room with him. "She did say something wise."

"An enemy? A M..." Abraxas flinched in the portrait. "A Muggleborn? Tom, really? What did an uppity t... bint have to say?"

"She said that she feels Salazar Slytherin would have wanted me to achieve great things but she mentioned also his desire for me to bring back the noble house."

Lucius and Draco wondered why they were there if he just wished to seek advice from the Late Patriarch. Abraxas paced around the luxurious setting of his portrait.

"This Muggleborn, what is she like?" Abraxas smirked. "You would not be this anxious over someone that was little more than a clumsy little fairy."

"She is not that, grandfather," Draco spoke for the first time since this strange incident. "I am a peer of hers. She is loyal, intelligent, clever, headstrong, and emotional. There is also a darkness to her, she is not above exacting revenge – or as she terms it – justice!"

"With an application to logic and excellent at subjects that requires thought process," the Dark Lord finished for Draco.

He was not going to punish the boy for adding in a thoughtful comment or two. Especially for that last remark about her exacting her own brand of vengeance. He could sense the darkness within her when he touched her. Precisely the reason why she remained alive.

"What of her looks?" Abraxas asked.

Lucius arched an eyebrow and decided to be rather candid: "Rather like Andromeda Black when young," he sighed. "She may have even passed for a younger sister, if we did not know better."

Abraxas scratched under his chin: "Andromeda was a pretty little thing," he sighed. "Yes, I can understand why you may like her but what of the pure..."

"Abraxas you know full well that went down the drain with my squib mother and muggle father," The Dark Lord seemed tired all of a sudden. Swiftly, his thoughts changed: "I have felt her power though – she could be _something_ under the right guidance," Abraxas smile was seemingly a mile wide: "I have entered into a Magical Contract that no scorn, or pain, shall fall upon her whilst under this hospitality."

"Was that wise, Tom," Abraxas said. "I know how wand happy you can get, and if she bad mouths you...?"

"She won't, she has reasons to keep decorum, besides," he looked up, "she has the propensity to want to please."

"How utterly delightful," Abraxas smirked again. "I wish I was more than a painting now. Maybe, if my son wills it, he can commission one of this girl to keep me company in my frame from time-to-time."

Lucius bowed to his father: "It shall be done," he said.

"I am guessing there is something _else_ to this Magical Binding, Tom?" Abraxas asked.

The Dark Lord looked up smiling more as he gazed upon his old friend. "Yes, my old friend, but I wish to make the Announcement tonight – maybe you can pop in on your wife to oversee the proceedings – Lucius there is more to be said," he glanced at Draco, "Draco, leave us."

"Yes my Lord," Draco bowed low and walked out of his grandfather's study breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Mid-way from his grandfathers study and his own suite, he was stopped by Dolohov, the young man wrinkled his nose in disgust at the leer in the Russian's eyes and the smirk on his lips.

"I heard that the Dark Lord has a tasty treat for us all tonight, must be Christmas!"

"Not a tasty treat, an honoured guest in our home, just as you are, Dolohov," Draco said. "I would spread the word if I were you, that the guest is not to be insulted – on pain of death."

"You think you're so untouchable coz you're a Malfoy," he snarled.

Draco just shook his head and was about to side-step past the dangerous Russian. Dolohov would not let him and shoved his back into the wall disturbing an Edwardian group of ladies drinking tea. Huffs of 'Well really!' were barely heard by the living men by their side. The older Death Eater's hands fisted into Draco's robes and he lifted the now frightened young man off the floor.

"What? Is _daddy_ having first dibs? Is she _his_ Christmas present?"

"Look," Draco sighed rolling his eyes kicking his feet against the wall in the hope someone would hear it. "I do not know what part you do not understand: Our Lord has offered her _his own_ protection. Not one of us is allowed to harm her, earlier he Crucio'd Aunt Bella for five minutes, because she dared scorn his choice in guest."

This changed things in Dolohov's view, gently he lowered Draco back on the floor and straightened his robes: "Well, we must be nice to the sweet _Baryshnja_ , then."

With that Dolohov strode of whistling an air from his Mother country. A slight sneer crossed the young aristocrat's face as he watched the older Death Eater saunter away from his sight. Draco righted his robes around him sneering at the thought of the Russian being nice. He'd seen Dolohov's version of being nice, and it did not sit well within him that Antonin would be _nice_ to Hermione. Well, he thought, I best work really hard to get Hermione out of here. She does not know what sort of danger she is in just by being here. There was something about that conversation in the study he did not like. It seems what the Dark Lord was not saying was more important than what he was.

Draco knew better than go to the rooms that she would be lying in. The Witch, to all intents and purposes, should be his. He had desired her even before the teeth were straightened properly. He'd never admit this on pain of death but he always found the chipmunk look kind of cute. Who would have thought that all it took was a bit of magic to sort out the angles of her face? The moment he saw her elegantly glide down the main staircase to the Great Hall and step up to Viktor Krum he had been jealous of the Bulgarian Seeker. That was why he was so mean to her afterwards. Normally he was used to the best, she was supposed to be his Head Girl, not Pansy bleeding Parkinson, she was supposed to be the one that he danced the final dance at the Final Ceremonials.

Now she was finally in this house, under the care of his mother, which he was thankful for, and his deranged Aunty. That did not sit well. If only he could find a way to get her out. He did not care if it meant death. What grace and prospects was there in being a Malfoy lately? Nothing to be proud of that was for sure. Something switched off inside his brain. There was no way out. The Dark Lord might win, what would happen to him then? With the right potions his parents could breed a better Malfoy. Mind made up he walked down another corridor and stopped at a seemingly blank wall.

Looking around to check he was alone, Draco then pressed a little bit of rock that jutted out of the brickwork, this opened a secret spiral staircase that lead to the roof. Designed as a great way to hide during the Witch Hunt trials, now used to hide from the Dark Lord, once utilised for enthusiastic games of hide and seek with Theo and Blaise when they were children. Tears sprang in his eyes as he thought of his happy childhood.

Now... things were different. There was nothing he wanted to live for. His parents were not on the pedestal they once were. Nothing was glorious, the Mark throbbed constantly, nagging him to be a good little Death Eater. To see sweet little Luna Lovegood in the cells and how she bore her darkened circumstances, tore at his heart. To see his once magical home turned into Death Eater HQ was the last thing he could swallow. He wanted to be back at school where he could hide in Snape's quarters. Draco was no longer blind, he was well-aware of where Severus loyalties lay. In Harry Potter...

He had to be scraped off the floor when he accidentally over heard that conversation between the now Headmaster and Portrait Dumbledore. He decided to do what little he could. Draco began to surreptitiously sneak sweets in and give them to torture victims. He was no longer surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle. Oh, he was still their friend, but they were far too violent. Too demeaning. Thoughts of school inevitably led to musings on Hermione. The witch should have been at school – to act as his beacon of light – if she was they'd have intelligent discussions. Ambling around the lake, perhaps he might have snaked an arm around her waist and using the excuse to share warmth. It was all fantasy. Deep down he knew Hermione would sooner kiss Hagrid than allow herself within ten feet of him, honestly, he sighed, who could blame her? He reached the top where a warded door sprang open. He rolled his eyes at the way it blew dramatically in the wind.

Unphased by the height, Draco walked to the edge of the roof, and stopped to lean against the wall that was all that stood between him and a drop about thirty feet down. He would probably die before he hit the ground.

"I'm sorry mum," he said. "I can't... not any longer... it was better before..." he was about to hop up when he heard a voice curse.

Moments before he had reached the top of his vast estate, Hermione had stumbled out of a door, confused. Why had the house made her come here? It was as if the building itself were taunting her for her fear of heights. She tried to go through the door but it seemed Malfoy Manor decided she should be here for whatever reason so she hid behind a chimney stack.

She was about to head back to find her way to where she was supposed to be when she saw Draco enter out the door the other side. In the distance he stood. Pensively staring out at the scenery, not caring for the cold. Hermione understood how a good view could cleanse someone's soul, so she was about to head back down. The door stubbornly refused to open, maybe the house was trying to tell her something. Hermione took in the situation, Draco's mien, his unconcern about being so close to the edge, to a height that could... Blood drained from her face the moment the situation forced upon her a dreadful realisation. The wards then coursed through to her core and were telling her this was unusual behaviour for this particular Malfoy. So, again, she crouched down behind a chimney stack and crawled on the supporting plinth. It seemed as if he'd been mulling something over in his mind and heart.

She saw his lips move but could not make out what he was saying. One of her previous friends was deaf and taught her how to lip read – a good art Hermione thought – for a spy. Shame I forgot some it. She made out the odd word though: 'Mum,' 'can't,' and 'before;' then she numbly observed Draco hoisting himself up on the guard wall. Feet standing hip width apart as he closed his eyes almost ready for the jump.

"Here goes!" he bent his knees to make the leap of death.

Heart thudding in her chest Hermione delicately, cat-like, and quietly as she could, landed the other side of the chimney stack and walked lightly up to Draco. Clearing her throat to speak so softly he did not hear her.

"Draco," she said gently.

Draco suddenly turned around and saw her standing there.

"How did you escape my aunt and mother?"

Hermione blinked: "I did not exactly. I was edging closer to the bathroom to hear what they were saying and hit something, landed on a set of steps – the sconces immediately lit up so I followed... I think the house was trying to tell me something."

"Yeah, we have a roof," Draco snapped.

"Gallows humour, I like that," she crossed one leg over another and folded her arms beneath her chest and casually leaned against a chimney, tilting her head just on the right side of arrogance. "Draco, I know we have barely spoken more than a few words together but I am sort of listening to my intuition here," she looked again out of the view, "it is lovely but there are safer ways to enjoying the view."

"I am not enjoying the view I am about to end my life!"

"Really?" Hermione sounded bored. "Get on with it then, _I_ want to enjoy the view and _you_ are blocking it."

"I did not ask for an audience," he snapped.

The girl was unbelievable. Draco looked at her – she seemed unaffected by what he said – he realised that she was showing she cared but trying not to be fluffy about it. Hermione scratched an imaginary spot on her hand and flicked it.

"Come on then, I have not got all day – we got less than an hour before nightfall."

Draco threw back his head and laughed. For that essence of Slytherin alone, he would do what she wanted him to do. So he carefully turned on the wall preparing to jump back down on the roof to join Hermione. Instead the heel caught and he slipped, landing with a thud on his stomach. Panicking, he began slipping down, trying to scrabble up but he only ended up dangling dangerously close to the precipice of death. Jumping into action Hermione grabbed hold of his wrists as hard as she could.

"HOLD ON!" she yelled. Hermione's blood rushed to her ears as she tried not to retch at looking down at such a height. "Come on Draco, hand on my wrist, I need to step back a bit but I can't if you're dragging me down."

Draco began flailing the way he did before in Dolohov's grip. The girl was holding onto him for all her might.

"Granger, wand!"

"I don't have one," she said. "It's too dangerous for you to give me yours. You just have to dig your nails into me."

Wincing, Draco tried to hold onto Hermione's slim wrist as tightly as possible. Clutching onto the sleeve with his other hand.

"Call one of the Elves."

Before Hermione could ask another door opened. Hermione threw her head around to see who had come and breathed a huge sigh of relief as she saw Lucius rush upon the scene. This gave her a renewed hope and she turned her attention back to her peer.

"Come on Draco, put your feet on the wall. Hold on, climb!"

All reports of her being insufferable were greatly exaggerated, Lucius discovered, she really did know some good facts. Again Lucius cursed the fact that he had been magically disabled by the destruction of his wand. Miss Granger was gurning with the effort to keep his son safe. Using all sources of strength within her so his son could remain alive. That had to stop soon, or they'd both be dead.

He rushed over to the pair, leaping over the pointed part of the roof, his cloak flapped behind him as his long hair flared out in flight. Hermione was suddenly struck by how Thor like he looked in that moment. All he needed was a powerful hammer and a full blond beard! Soon, he was by Hermione's side, without a thought for his own safety, Lucius bent over the battlements and gripped Draco's cloak by the back and began dragging his son over the wall. All three were grunting and sweating with the effort. Hermione began to cramp with a stitch but she fought through the pain as she and Lucius finally pulled his son over the other side to safety.

Draco landed on a heap on top of his haggard father: "What were you doing?" Lucius asked through his heavy pants. Hermione was about to crawl away but Lucius caught her wrist. Forcing her to lay there in a moment she did not feel she belonged in. "For Salazar's Sake What Were You Doing Draco?"

Draco turned his head down and tears stood in his eyes but they were not going to fall, he was too proud for that: "I am sorry," he whispered, "I wanted to end my life. You and mother can have another and..." suddenly Lucius hugged Draco tightly to him sobbing over his son's shoulder.

"Do not _think_ _for one moment_ you can be replaced, Draco," Lucius hushed as he kissed his son's cheek. "Do not even consider that. _You_ are my treasure, _my_ gold!"

"I'm useless, father, I..."

Lucius dug his hands deep into Draco's hair as he held his son even closer to his body – to prove to himself – that his son was still there. His beautiful, handsome, intelligent son. Never had she seen Lucius Malfoy appear so sexy as he did in that moment. Hermione jerked on Lucius hand in an effort for him to let her go, this only served to remind Lucius he was not alone.

"What were you doing here.. not here to..." he asked her, a hint of concern in his tone, showing through his silver eyes.

"No," she replied in a small voice. "I was not even curious, for once the house seemed to sense something was wrong. Unfortunately, it thought I was the only person who could do something about it. I came up here and saw Draco," she was whispering. "I had stopped him, he wasn't going to do it, he slipped as he was about to come back over."

"If you had not have been here..." Lucius sighed.

When his father had let him go, Draco rolled off Lucius chest, onto his side. Using the side of a chimney to help him shakily back on his feet. Wincing as he clutched onto his throbbing solar plexus, nothing he had not felt before with Quidditch injuries. He watched as Lucius looked at Hermione. Draco's adrenaline had not zeroed down yet. Neither had Lucius, he had to do something with it. The way his father glanced at Hermione unsettled Draco so he turned his head away only hearing the scuffles of bodies moving.

Remembering what their Lord said Lucius pulled Hermione over to his side, fisted her hair in his hand and pulled her up. Once their mouths were level, Lucius attacked her lips with his. It did not last long – being more a lip kiss than anything – and was out of gratitude than out of passion, but Hermione found she was rather disappointed it did not become more. Once he had stopped she felt the tingle for hours after. This moment he was more a man than she had ever witnessed him be. His love for his son caused a warmth to spread through her body and down to her groin. At once she blamed it on adrenaline.

"Please, do not tell Narcissa," he gasped. Spearmint, she revelled in the scent of spearmint.

"It was a thank you kiss," Hermione said confused.

"Not that," he sighed. "Under my Lord's orders you can..." he decided to stop there. Lucius was not sure if that would be the right thing to say to this obviously morally upright young woman. She would not like to be considered a gift. "Narcissa must never know about Draco and his..." Hermione understood, the Mother Bear was to be protected by the fact her cub had almost... "As for the kiss," he smirked. "Is there a chance of exploring that, perhaps, a little later?"

What was happening, she was getting the come-on from Lucius Malfoy at the same time she seemed to be giving him signals of a come-on from her? Yes, she wanted to explore where this sudden chemistry could lead... if the Dark Lord would permit it of course... and where did that thought come from?

"I do not know, it depends what your Lord has to say."

Hermione blushed, their eyes met and suddenly she wondered how she had not noticed how handsome he was before. His concern over his son changed her perspective of him immediately.

"If you had run the bath you would have run it too hot for her, Bella, I told you..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at Lucius, "I cannot keep this a secret – Narcissa is the mother and she has a right to know what is going on inside her son's head – it is hard to sweep attempted suicide under the rug."

Lucius sighed and glanced up at his son who was ignoring them the best he could. Leaning over he pecked her cheek and stood up, helping Hermione up fluidly at the same time. Narcissa saw how close to the edge Hermione was and rushed up to her.

"Miss Granger, please, whatever you are thinking – please step away from the parapet..."

Bellatrix had a gleam in her eyes communicating quite loudly for a silent wish: Hermione edged closer towards Narcissa. Instinctively Hermione knew Bella would rather push her over the wall with a smirk and a childlike: _Oopsie,_ then go her merry way to torture someone else.

"It was not Hermione, mother," Draco sighed. "It was me. The wards told Hermione something was wrong. If the house had not warned her... well..."

Immediately Narcissa drew her son into a fierce hug sobbing over his chest, Draco hugged her back, his gaze landed on Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Again she tried to creep away from the situation but Narcissa held her hand and drew her into the family hug.

"You saved my son?" Narcissa's voice wobbled. "You really saved..."

"Your husband deserves the reward not me," Hermione said bashfully, "he sensed through the wards that something was wrong too, without his strength I would have been useless."

Narcissa still rubbed Hermione's face and nodded: "You are right, our Lord permitting, my husband is yours tonight if you wish it so."

"No, that's not what I..."

"I do not wish it so," the high voice had returned. "Miss Granger please follow Mrs Malfoy to your rooms – Bellatrix, it seems I need to keep disciplining you – Abraxas study – now!"

The Dark Lord had heard everything and gleaned what was not said. No, Lucius had to prove himself before he partook of the carnal delights of Miss Granger.

"My Lord," Narcissa bowed as she reached him. Hermione made to do the same but he stopped her.

"No, you are to be seen as my Equal tonight, the only exception is that you not sit higher than I."

Hermione smiled sardonically: "Forgive me for my impudence, but for me, that would have to be a high chair. You have observed how short I am?"

The Dark Lord caressed her face, tracing a fingertip along her jawline before ending at the base of her skull. Hermione was shocked to find herself being pulled close to him and lips crashed down on hers. For some reason, Hermione found it rather pleasant, the dark magic aside, she knew what he really looked like. Once the kiss broke, he again had a dark brown gaze and less blue/white skin speckled with a pink flush to his cheeks.

"It is always the littlest packages that greatness can be found in, Miss Granger, remember that," he said as he bumped against her forehead. Hermione gulped and nodded. "Go, before I am tempted further."

Narcissa tugged Hermione back down the stairs she came. Now they were on their own the blonde would have to give Hermione a few tips on how to appreciate the Lord's attentions. A horrid lesson to learn, but all female followers had slept with the Dark Lord. Well, most – Alecto Carrow did not for her obvious proclivities, and was severely tortured for not accepting her Lord's bed. As for Umbridge – how that human toad made Mrs Malfoy shudder with disgust – how could anyone want to be with that? It transpired that even her Lord had his limitations, for _he_ was the one that refused _her_ advances. Maybe the pink plaid was a huge turn off. Or maybe the toad would have hatched a Basilisk that was too monstrous even for their Lord to contemplate.

"May I ask a question, Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she watched the woman peruse the cupboards and draws.

"Please do," she sighed. Here it comes. "I have been told it is somewhat impossible to _stop_ you from asking questions."

Blushing at Narcissa's statement, Hermione chuckled: "Yes, I am of a rather inquiring mind," she decided to be rather candid with the Witch who was expending extra effort in being hospitable to someone she deemed less than worthy, "when I was a child my gran knitted me a jumper, decorated with a red question mark on a black background. I was told to wear it with the firm instruction that I point to the garment if I had a query."

To her surprise Narcissa laughed warmly: "Curiosity and the cat, you know, Hermione."

"Oh I know, believe me, hanging around with Harry Potter, one cannot help but know," Hermione tilted her head. "What does he want with me?"

Narcissa stopped in her tracks: "What do you mean?"

"Your Lord, what does he want with me?"

"One guesses he would like you to be near him," Narcissa said. "Anything that intrigues him," she shook her head, "anyone really, he likes to get to the bottom of. You have been a matter of interest in this household since the moment Draco came home for the Christmas holidays in his first year."

"Yes but..." Hermione was frustrated. Scared and frustrated, "I am not a Death Eater, I do not fit the criteria for a start," here Narcissa smiled as she found the robes that would be perfect for her. Good thing she knew a few charms to resize the robes to Miss Granger's emaciated frame. The silence was unbearable: "Do I?"

"That is for my Lord to decide," Narcissa answered calmly. "Now, come on, in the bath – I have a lot to oversee so..."

"Of course," Hermione followed Narcissa into the opulent bathroom.

She was not shy of being naked in front of a strange woman. Muggle swimming pool changing rooms beat that out of her. So she comfortably stripped in front of Narcissa. The older woman gave nothing away over her guest's withered frame – the Lord was right – she needed somewhere to stay for a while to gather her strength.

"Now, I have to oversee the seating arrangements, you are to be seated on our Lord's Left side. Later I shall instruct you on Etiquette and Conversation technique."

"Who will be sitting on his right?"

Narcissa seemed to falter, quickly she recovered herself and shortly after smiled: "The Headmaster of course," she said breezily.

Great, Hermione muttered, just wonderful. Spiffing, one might say.

Sitting next to the Dark Lord, and opposite Headmaster Snape... "The other side of me?" she asked nervously.

When Narcissa told her she paled – considerably – Narcissa did not see the frightened look on her guests face.

Stuck between The Darkest Lord of all, the snarkiest of them all, and now – she gulped – the fiercest of them all...

Happy Bloody Christmas to me; Hermione groaned.

* * *

 **AN** : So, just _who is the fiercest of them all?_ Dolohov? Greyback? Rowle? Readers decide... If people were hoping for Draco to be part of the Multi - I am really sorry but I cannot write Dramione, I love reading them but I cannot bring myself to do so - do not feel sorry for him though - he will find love, I do like the blond ferret but he is not meant to be with my dear little otter...

Reminder that I do have a facebook page: **Silver Lioness** , and I am on Live Journal as: **SilverLioness80**.

Also, I am going on Holiday from **17th of June to the 24th of June** , I may write whilst there, but I am not so sure about updating. Exploring **Whitby** and parts of Yorkshire... I love Yorkshire, and should provide me with more inspiration.


	3. Scum and Villainy

**Disclaimer:** This is inspired by the wonderful works of **JK Rowling.** Also inspired by **Hotel California** and **Star Wars.**

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 **Triggers: Grey Hermione; Sexual Hermione, torture, sexual references.**

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Thank you, **Geekmom13** for looking things over.

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Fancasts: **Dolohov** ; Colin Farrell. Joely Richardson, **Narcissa Malfoy.**

* * *

 **Winter Frost**

Mirrors on the ceiling, **  
**The pink champagne on ice **  
**And she said, 'we are all just prisoners here, of our own device' **  
**And in the master's chambers, **  
**They gathered for the feast **  
**They stab it with their steely knives, **  
**But they just can't kill the beast.

Eagles: Hotel California

 **Scum and Villainy**

Hermione was now more awkward than ever. She appraised her seating position. Today was an odd one indeed. Though she was somewhat appeased by the knowledge that whilst she was here, at the Malfoy's dining table, the Dark Lord's focus was no longer on her friend. The more she can save Harry the better. Even if that was not the intention it became such.

Narcissa had bathed her in perfumed oils, elves had restyled her hair so now it flowed in soft curls around her face and bare shoulders. She was dressed in Slytherin green, however it was her favourite colour and suited her skin and eye tones. The gold threads highlighted the golden thread in her hair – helping her eyes to stand out. As did the green and champagne tones that were making her eyes pop. In short, Hermione sparkled in a room full of gloom.

The girl was strongly reminded of Alec Guinness in Star Wars: Never has she ever been in a room full of scum of villainy. All the inner circle Death Eaters were seated around her. All it would take for her to end the war would be sneaking to the powder room and sending a well-timed Patronus. The only defence she had against the sepulchral company she now found herself in.

Caution ruled her movements, she kept glancing around her before taking dainty bites of the succulent brazed duck's breast oozing in orange and white wine sauce. Accompanied with tiny onions, mange tout and asparagus spears with fluffy mounds of mashed potato, the meal was excellent, simply exquisite. Divinely cooked so that subtle bursts of flavour pricked her tastes buds with every mouthful. This was the second course. The first was a refreshing beef consommé with freshly baked bread. Quite frankly, Hermione was shocked that she could keep this food down – the Digestus Relief Tonic that Narcissa had made her drink before the guests arrived must have helped her.

So far the meal was eaten in relative silence. Though Hermione felt awkward – she was used to joking, jostling, complaining and loud bangs and crashes through her meals. The silence was giving her a headache. She supposed that this was how the upper half ate. Respectfully giving the meal their full attention. She still could not believe she was sat next to Antonin Dolohov. Not making it secretive of his desire for her as his dark, heavy set gaze kept slipping sideways inquisitively tilting his head at an awkward looking angle, so he could glimpse at her cleavage – which was rather on show at the moment. The beautiful frock she was attired in accentuated parts of her she wished to remain hidden to the Dark Lord's and his followers heated eyes.

She was about to sip some more wine when, finally, someone asked her a question. It was surprisingly from Rodolphus Lestrange. One of the ones who was making it clear he would do anything for his Lord for her to join him in his bed.

"So, er, Miss... Granger," she rewarded him with a dazzling smile. He blushed a little. When the Dark Lord observed this he was enthralled by the sight. So, Rodolphus Lestrange desired her too? The Dark Lord loved his new weapon of keeping control amongst the ranks. "I have to know what, I mean, how were you supported financially to...?"

"That is easily answered," she said as she took another sip of wine before returning to her meal. "My parents were dentists. Teeth Healers. They prodded into mouths with little mirrors, checking to see if people brushed them. Many a muggle are terrified of my parents profession. They have sharp needles. Drills that echo through the skull. Fillings that hurt beyond comprehension. I suppose if Muggles had Light and Dark, my parents would be on the Dark Side as muggles have to sometimes be hypnotised to get themselves in the dentist chair."

"So," said Bellatrix, her eyes ablaze with the idea of being taught new ways to torture. "Are you allowed..."

"Oh no," Hermione laughed. A silvered sound that refreshed the ears of the male diners. "My parents would _never_ allow me near their dental equipment. I would have to go to University for about 5 years at least."

"Did you like your parents explor..."

"Oh no, I had to go see another Dentist, an old mate of my dad's. Family are not supposed to operate on family."

"Hmm, understandable," another voice. Hermione turned to look at and witnessed a smirking grin on Lucius Malfoy's face, for some reason it made her blush, most of the men at the table were smirking at each other, she was clearly flattered to be here. "What was their reaction when they..."

"They needed to be shown proof but once Professor McGonagall changed the colours of our furniture and walls well, they had proof. Strangely enough they did not like her tartan over our furniture, they were pleased when the charm faded."

"You are sure that you are absolutely the only one in your family?" asked another Death Eater Hermione did not know the name of.

"Positive," Hermione said, "though one never knows with families and we have no family tree to consult."

Then the sound that grated on her nerves more than anyone else's coughed in that faux girlishness that the person did not possess. Hermione's hackles were up, along with waves of her hair sparkling and crackling, thin wisps of electrified magic swirled in her hair, conveying her aggravation at the simpering tone. Bellatrix tilted her head to the side chewing her meal in contemplation. The fact that this young woman's power could not be contained was interesting to the dark witch as she mulled over a new feeling in her heart. Narrowing her eyes, Bellatrix slyly turned her gaze to the pink abomination that had earned the guest's ire.

It was vindictive justice that _she_ happened to be there too, Hermione sighed. When she saw her waddling in the hall on the rat's arm Hermione's sneer could have made Snape proud if he was there to witness it. Gracefully, Hermione turned to the direction of the watery voice.

"Yes, madam?" Hermione asked with false conviviality.

"Hem hem," Umbridge continued from down the table. "My Lord," the snub was not lost on either of them – still, she was only here out of desperation. She was sitting opposite Wormtail. He was the only one not prepared to look at Hermione. Both knew why. Hermione wondered if his boggart was Crookshanks, the thought caused a warmth to spread inside her. "Forgive me, but what is a top five Undesirable doing here in a position that is completely unworthy of her station?" Everyone remained silent as their Lord pierced the poisonous pink toad with his red eyes. The assembled group held their breath in anticipation. "I mean, my Lord, should she not be..." she could not finish as multiple Crucio's were sent her way.

"You are not a true follower, Dolores," the Dark Lord hissed as he sent his own punishment, a particularly violent Crucio, followed by a sectumsempra on her neck.

Others were soon partaking in Umbridge's torment. Hermione winced and turned away, Narcissa protected the young witch with all her might. Even Draco relished practising the unforgivable on this loathsome being. But what surprised Hermione the most was Professor Snape's visceral reaction. In a matter of seconds, he stood up and swooped around her side of the table and stood protectively in front her. Shielding her from the atrocity performed on the ugly woman who had earned herself this torture. Although she was not a swooning damsel, Hermione could not help but breathe heavily at the feel of his strong arm pressing her to his back. She recalled that fateful night when the same Professor Snape had her in a similar position. His hand was on her bottom whilst she pressed her nose into the centre of his spine. Their stance similar to when Remus transformed in front of them. Hermione glanced shyly up at the imposing man, softly peering up through her lashes awkwardly as he glanced down at her worry evident in his gaze. This act did not match up with the psycho-analysis of a cold-blooded murderer. Definitely did not match up with that of a blood supremacist.

Once the violence stopped the Dark Lord grabbed Hermione by the hand, taking her away from Severus possessive protection. He then turned her around and tilted her chin up with his wand. She startled at the feel of his lips against her shell and he took a moment to sniff her in. Tonight, he sighed as he spread a hand across her abdomen, making sure his fingers were cupping her ribcage, this witch will be mine. He held her tightly to his body. Hermione gulped at the proximity. Briefly her eyes landed on Bellatrix who smiled lopsidedly at her – did she imagine it or was Sirius' murderer _accepting_ her?

"What of you, Miss Granger," he whispered sensuously. Shivers ran down her spine to the end of her toes. He seemed to be coaxing her darkness out. "Do you not wish to avenge the wrong done to you by this woman?"

Hermione gulped. She did not know where to go or what to do, for she was absolutely certain that she could not perform the Crucio yet. Though that did not mean she never wanted too. It was war, after all. She would have to at some point. What could she do in the mean time though? Then inspiration struck. Her smile lit up her eyes making them as dark as molten lava. The Death Eaters all waited to see how a goody-goody punished.

Draco most of all, as he had been there with her in that room when she faked tears that led Umbridge to being trampled by Centaurs. An act that was highly praised amongst Draco and his father for its pure vindictiveness. Hermione began to play mischievously on the wood of the table, tapping her nails in the motion of horses hooves murmuring: clip-clop, clip-clop, clippity-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clippity-clop – changing cadence so it became a beat that others were tapping their feet too under the table. Bellatrix did not know what the significance was but decided to join in – she could appreciate psychological trauma with the best of them. This girl was rather a surprise for a muggleborn Gryffindor. Umbridge paled but she remained seated still and panting from the Crucio's she had suffered.

The raucous taunting stopped suddenly when everyone observed the small witch draw a wand out that had been given to her by Lucius as a thank-you for saving Draco's life. The suave way she had brandished her new wand made the Dark Lord sit up straight. He watched, along with his followers, of what she was going to do. Smiling to a man as Hermione pointed the wand at her victim's legs with an elegant flourish that made Professor Snape proud; she had clearly observed, quite closely, his own wand movements. Hermione calmly and concisely transfigured the odious witch's legs into the shape, structure and tone of the toad she so obviously resembled.

"There, I say you are now complete," she grinned.

"Different," the Lord grinned against Hermione's cheek. "A little _too_ light a punishment though. You _were_ snubbed, my sweet demon, despite the fact that you are an equal for as long you stay here."

"Wait for a moment, she has yet to speak," Hermione said.

Then Umbridge croaked. Causing everyone at the table, even Bellatrix, to laugh at the oddity amongst their midst. Hermione was stunned to hear Snape's laughter. She glanced at the usually stoic man and something warm bubbled up inside her that, finally, she had earned his approval. Bellatrix glanced sideways at the young muggleborn, thoroughly scrutinising the witch who somewhat resembled her. Maybe, Bellatrix smiled, she could be kind to the young woman. After all, such creativity had to be rewarded with instruction. If her Lord permitted her, Bellatrix could corrupt the witch therefore leaving Potter stumbling along with just a Weasel for company. The Dark Lord was busy fortifying his allies abroad, he was only here because he wished to punish her puny brother-in-law. It was clear her sister was more interested in protecting their guest. An unnecessary act, for it was clear Miss Granger could fight her own battles. For that fact alone made Bellatrix contemplate her options. If there was one thing she despised it was a damsel crying out for a wizard to save her. Hermione was not one such witch. Yes, the girl did need a guide into the Dark Arts. If she played her cards right – she could be that Mentor. There was no way on this, or any other, Earth, would she allow _Snivellus_ to be it. Thus her plan formed that would earn her way back into her Lord's good graces.

"I do hope you were not hopping about for a fun night, Wormtail," Snape said. Everyone laughed at his joke. Hermione giggled. Voldemort enjoyed the way her breasts jiggled against his thin arms. "Then again rats aren't particularly fussy are they?"

The rat had turned as green as his companion in front of him. He had not particularly looked forward to taking his plus one to his bedroom but sex was sex and he had looked forward to that at least. He glared hatefully at Hermione.

"My Lord," he said in childish whimper. "Surely my date can be cured of her affliction now?"

The Dark Lord tilted his head and held Hermione tighter to him, his voice rumbled deep within her. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and, though not pleased there was a rival, she was rather excited at the possibility that she was in the presence of a kindred spirit and Miss Granger was a close semblance to her branch of the Black tree. The witch was at least pretty and Narcissa had made her tolerable to look at. There definitely was potential there, what she was not liking was the way Severus was scowling at her like the witch had done something wrong. As far as Bellatrix was concerned the witch probably made the smartest decision in her life by breaking free of Potter.

"What say you, Hermione?" the Dark Lord's voice, along with his fingers slowly gliding up her ribs. Goosebumps formed on her neck and arms with the Cimmerian promise they held for later in the night. Her hair fell over his shoulder tumbling onto his back. He was so close to her and Hermione felt safe which was not what she should be feeling in this wizard's embrace. "Should we allow Wormtail his fun for the evening?"

"Meow," Hermione grinned. Wormtail quivered in his seat. "Mew," she continued. "Shame I cannot transfigure into a cat, my Lord," Hermione said easily. "I wish to pounce and punish him."

"How deliciously dark of you, Miss Granger."

Her breaths were in heavy pants now as she felt something taking root within her – something that felt like a dark, velvet blanket warming her magic. She desired to hurt this pathetic excuse of a human being. How dare he be sitting pretty here! Hermione's sense of justice along with the shadowing of her soul, caused the usually forgiving girl to raise her wand. The Dark Lord continued whispering in her ear. Encouragements, urgings, convincing her that this was right. To just do it.

"I am not sure if I can," she whispered.

"Allow your hatred to manifest, little witch, you can do this my darling."

Darling? No one had ever called her 'darling' before. Her mother called her my little rainbow, to her father she was a pumpkin. Darling was just the surname of a girl in a novel in her household. Her mouth suddenly went dry as she felt a solitary tear drop from the corner of her eyes. Heart pounding in her boots. Yet, she could. She knew she could. She hated. Hated deeply. Hermione looked once again at the pseudo-toad and the quivering rat.

"Crucio!" she exclaimed. It did not take.

"You have to mean it, Hermione," the Dark Lord continued urging her forward. " _Mean_ it, Hermione, you can do this."

Everyone watched but her sole focus was now on a coward rat that shivered where he sat, she resolutely tilted her chin and aimed once more after a deep breath.

"Crucio!" she said once again. It took but not violently. A whelp of surprise sounded out from that.

"No, Hermione, mean it. Mean it with _all_ your heart. Your mind. Think of what could have happened to make you hate him – you can do it – hate. You can hate," Hermione closed her eyes and centred herself the way she did before she performed any spell and a memory hit.

" _KEEP THAT MONSTER AWAY FROM MY RAT!"_

" _ITS A CAT – CATS CHASE RATS!"_

" _I DON'T WANT THAT MANGY BEAST NEAR MY SCABBERS!"_

" _FOR GOODNESS SAKE RON, CATS WILL CHASE RATS. CROOKS DOES NOT HAVE IT IN FOR YOUR FLEABITTEN PET!"_

" _IF ANYTHING IS FLEABITTEN ITS THAT SQUASHED FACED SPITTING MACHINE YOU GOT IN YOUR ARMS!"_

" _IF ITS BETWEEN YOU AND CROOKS YOU CAN BET I'D CHOOSE CROOKS ANYDAY. CROOKS IS SO MUCH MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU ANYWAY, RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!"_

That was one of many arguments with the red head over that old rat – only to find out the rat was Harry's parent's traitor. Then there was a fight about Harry's broom. She was only being cautious, Hermione did not want her friend to die. It was Scabbers, though, that caused the biggest rift between them that year. Scabbers that sent her in tears to the girls loo. Scabbers who turned out to be a bloody murderer to people who liked him! Everyone in the room witnessed the change of purpose in Hermione's eyes. The Dark Lord seemed to sense something coming and took a step back from her. Hermione was suddenly reminded of the Jedi. They were good yet managed to use the force to change peoples minds and make them think of other things.

"IMPERIO!" she yelled quickly also aiming it at Umbridge. "You two are excused, you are to go to your rooms and do what only a rat and a toad can do... stab each other in the back!"

Umbridge tried to fight it but she could not. Eventually they led each other out of the room. Once in Pettigrew's chambers they summoned knives to follow their orders. The Death Eaters were now taking bets on who would do it first and how many times before the Imperio wore off. Yaxley was now most intrigued by Hermione Granger. Snape, however, had trouble containing his fury at how Hermione, who was so like Lily in many ways – had allowed herself to be corrupted so easily. He had to get her on her own to knock some sense into her.

"My Lord," he knelt on the floor. "May I please seek audience with our auspicious guest alone, please?"

"Do you wish to go with Headmaster Snape, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. The Dark Lord smiled as he stroked her hair: "Escort her to my chambers, Severus, she is to be bedded tonight."

"My Lord," Severus panted.

She accepted Headmaster Snape's hand, her own trembling with trepidation over the rage she could feel radiating off Severus. She gulped as she realised what was likely to incur upon her once they were alone. He remained silent all the way to his Lord's room, his thin fingers digging into her arms causing her to wince. Hermione had hitched her skirts up so as not to trip up the stairs. Severus was now almost running once they reached the Dark Lord's floor and chambers. Severus yanked the door open and roughly flung her inside as he slammed the door shut with his own inner-power the anger spurring him on. Quickly warding the room against interlopers and eavesdroppers.

"What in the name of the four founders do you think you are doing, Miss Granger!" he snarled so viscously spittle flecked his lips. "You are supposed to be with Potter!"

"How do you know where I am supposed to be, Professor?" she yelled back. "I struck a deal with the Dark Lord which has made me safe for now and Harry too, whilst I am here distracting the Lord of Darkness, Harry can go on unimpeded!" she clutched her forehead with her hand and sighed. "Not that he appreciated my company," she murmured. "It is and, I fear, always will be Ron that holds more importance to him."

"Might I remind you there are people in the Light that are relying on your brains to carry Potter through."

"Harry is plenty intelligent enough without me being there 24/7 holding his hand. I just said, Ron is more his friend than I am."

"Then he is a dunderhead."

"Ron is not stupid just not... not..."

"Intelligent? Magically powerful? Only reads comic books?"

"No, Ron can think things through. He can strategise, plan things out, he can position the right people in the right place. All I am is books and cleverness – Harry and Ron have the more important things which I don't... don't... possess," tears sprang in her eyes. Her head hung low in shame. "I don't have what Harry needs, Professor. I am nothing to him."

Severus became worried. No, don't you dare despair. "That is the Dark influencing you, Miss Granger," he rushed down and knelt on the floor clasping her hands in his, "tell me – how did you feel when you cast that imperio?"

"Magnificent. In control. Commanding those two imbeciles to stab each other in the back was a wonderfully intoxicating spur of exhilaration that made me feel... special."

"Cast your Patronus!" Snape ordered. The panic spread to his heart.

"What... but?"

"I said it clearly, Miss Granger, now do it!"

Hermione stood up and whisked her wand in the air as she said the words calmly, then out of her wand an otter formed and began to frolic and play with her in the imposing rooms. Then it went to Professor Snape and began to rub its nose against Snape's chin. To her surprise and delight, Snape began to tickle under its chin and the otter rolled over on its back demanding a belly rub. Snape congenially obliged and the otter laughed exactly like Hermione did when she found something truly amusing. Hermione smiled at the scene. It seemed Professor Snape liked otters too. The otter stopped playing and turned to Hermione tilting its head inquisitively as if awaiting a command.

"Now send a message to Potter," he said. "He needs to be aware you are safe and alive at the least."

"Nuntius Translatio!" she said to the tip of her wand. " _Harry, all is well. I am fine. You may not believe me but I am, besides after what I have done you may not want me by your side at all, but anyway – you are to stay where you are. Await for further messages. As for food, surreptitiously summon Kreacher or Dobby. I do not know when we will see each other again but, for the time being, keep where you are. It will be for your own good._ " She then cast the stop message with: "Nolite nuntius!" the wand glowed a light blue suggesting the message had been recorded. She then looked at the otter and smiled affectionately. She pointed the wand at the otter's throat: "Translatio," she said. "Fabula nuntius," she whispered.

Once the otter had recalled the message in good clarity she told her to scamp of and find Harry. The otter did.

"That is good so the dark has not truly taken root."

Hermione blinked a little. Of course a Patronus was a protection against the Dark. Professor Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Sir, please, I was only speaking to the locket – I did not know he could sense them – I was in tears and he showed up where I was. I did not plan this but it just... and he was... and I was so... so alone."

"Calling the Dark Lord is not..."

"I did not mean to, it just happened."

Although their voices were low they hissed at each other like serpents ready to fight. Hermione stood aggressively twirling the wand in her fingers like a she was a majorette in a troop. Snape had an image of her in the uniform and groaned – at least he had fresh material to 'work' with. He had not seen her since that unfortunate night of Dumbledore's demise. Severus finally comprehended the difference between an aggravating hand-waving 11-year-old to a fully fledged 18-year-old young woman whose eyes could turn his usually staunch heart to mush. Realising the precarious position they were in Professor Snape lowered his eyes – hiding them from her sensitive gaze.

"Just be careful and no more Unforgivables, you hear?"

"Yes sir," Hermione sighed. She knew he was protecting her – that was strange in itself – he was certainly not acting like the turncoat Harry supposed he was. In fact, she looked up and noticed how sweet he was at times. This was when she realised the difference between a snide 31-year-old to that of a world weary 37-year-old. "I will be as careful as I possibly can."

"I suppose that is good enough," an elf popped into the bedchambers holding a bowl of steaming apple pie and custard with a small helping of traditional Christmas pudding topped with clotted cream that oozed rivulets of white into the cracks of the almost black dessert. "Enjoy your dessert and I hope we can speak a little more freely next time."

"Yes sir, I will sir, thank you sir."

"Be cautious, Miss Granger, there are vultures at every corner. I saw the looks all the men at the table were giving you, some you may be able to handle, others not so. The deal with the Dark Lord you made will most certainly expire when you least expect it. Just please, be on red alert at all times in this house of scum."

"Yes sir," she sighed as Snape dramatically swept out of the room, keeping the enchantments in place.

Hermione felt just then about Severus the way Elizabeth Bennet felt at Mr Darcy leaving abruptly over the knowledge of her younger sister's scandal. "I will never see him again," she quoted.

Just then Harry's Patronus bolted in the room: _"I hope you are indeed as safe as you were the wearer of the locket last I knew. As long as it is not in enemy hands I will rest easy. You sleep well, Hermione, see you as soon as I possibly can._ "

She sighed. What else could she do besides tuck into that cinnamon scented pie and deliciously warm Christmas pudding. Her stomach grumbled as her mouth drooled at the thought. Eagerly, she consumed the victuals offered her and smiled contentedly. Allowing a smattering of guilt wash over her at the thought of Harry shivering in that awful tent.

The walls of the room were over-crowded with books. Hermione decided to go and pick one to read whilst awaiting the Dark Lord to show up. She did not have to wait for long as the Dark Lord dramatically swirled in the chambers. Eyes gleamed dark, almost blood red, a smirk upon his face.

"It is my duty to inform you that the toad and the rat stabbed but not to kill. They are being taken care of by my Headmaster for wounds but neither are willing to speak to the other again."

"As long as their lesson is learned I can understand why they had not died."

"You really are quite an interesting little woman are you not," he tilted his head sideways. "I just wonder how intriguing you are as a bed warmer."

"My Lord?" Hermione questioned. Faux innocence sparkled in her eyes as she affected a bird listening out for worm. "Does that mean I have pleased thee tonight?"

When she raised her eyes up she noticed, glinting between the v of his open robes, the pendant sitting proudly on his chest.

"My little Horcrux has found out some rather wonderful things about you, Miss Granger," he smiled. "Let us see how they come to fruition in reality. Off with your clothes now sweetling."

Hermione gulped – he meant it. The Dark Lord desired to sleep with her and she could not refuse. Then again she was not bred a Gryffindor for nothing. With purpose shining in her eyes she began to unfasten the ribbon at her back corseting her in this dress.

"Like this, my Lord?"

He smiled widely and sat down on the bed, urging her to twirl around so he could watch the show – not many men would decline this view – he was sure of it. He licked his lips as the ribbons loosened, exposing more creamy flesh along the way.

"Yes, sweetling, exactly like that," he murmured. "Slowly so I can truly appreciate what extras I shall have tonight..."

Her cheeks burned bright red in seconds.

Godric's pants, Ron, if you thought I dancing with Viktor was fraternizing with the enemy, I wonder what you would make of this.

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 **AN:** There you have it, she was sat next to Dolohov, The Dark Lord and opposite Severus with Lucius at eye catching distance slightly furhter up the table. Now the next chapter will involve VOLMIONE smut. Whether it is dub con or full consent is up to you...

I almost feel sorry for Umbridge but she is soooo easy to hate...


	4. Dance The Ghost

**AN: The characters sort of ran away with me on this one. I made up the song Siren's Kiss but everything else belongs to JK Rowling.**

Thank you **, Kim** for going through this.

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 **Winter Frost**

Get down, get undressed  
Get pretty but you and me,  
We got the kingdom, we got the key  
We got the empire, now as then,  
We don't doubt, we don't take direction,  
Lucretia, my reflection, dance the ghost with me

Sisters of Mercy: Lucretia, My Reflection

 **Dance The Ghost**

Imagining the sounds of sleazy jazz, Hermione circled her hips as she slowly loosened each piece of emerald satin ribbon that held her bodice together, threading each through her fingers and allowing him to focus on her little hands. He tilted his head to the side as she began singing. Her sweet husky tones sent zings of electricity to his groin. Something that Bellatrix had failed to do lately. Then she bent her leg on the edge of the bed, her sheer silk stocking trapped foot felt delightfully sinful against his thigh.

Hermione raised her body up and used a fingernail to tilt his chin up making sure of eye contact: "Do your best, mister," she purred, "treat me like a queen, I'll show ya sights you only dreamed you seen;" slowly, she slowly rolled down the silk stocking her smooth limb. "Show me life, show me passion, in a flashin'; I'm," she breathed in heavily as she leaned closer to stroke his jaw, "baitin you, hookin' you, reeling you in!" The Dark Lord seemed entranced by her choice of song: "'Coz Mister," her sultry voice sent shivers down his spine! Until now he was not aware he could still form goose-bumps on his watery skin: "I'm your siren."

"Don't stop," he whispered.

Chuckling throatily, Hermione smirked as she moved slowly away from his body: "'Coz of this, you can't resist, my arms, my lovin' calms;" she used the tip of her fingernail to firmly draw a line down his throat: "Stay."

Everything about this appealed to him, it spoke of dark smoky speakeasies in Prohibition America. "I'm baitin' you, Hookin' you, Reelin' you In," she grabbed hold of his robe and pulled him forward as she stepped back. 'Coz Mister," the anticipation was rampant for lustful kissing but with a wink of her playful eyes, Hermione raised her foot and gently kicked him back on the mattress, not noticing how his eyes hooded over her lengthening limb: "I'm your siren!"

This was his favourite part of the song: _Well, hello my dear_ , he thought. _I wonder if any of_ _your ingrate_ _Gryffindors knew you could move as sinuously as a snake?_ He paid more attention to her now.

"Draggin yah, Dunkin yah, Drownin' yah, In," her hips swayed with each of the D words to emphasise the imaginary beat of the saxophone. "'Coz Mister: I'm your siren," she had turned her back on the Lord and twisted her head around with a come-hither warmth to her lusting gaze: "Draggin yah," she twirled around tapping her feet now to the beat: "Dunkin yah," dragging her arms high above her, head tossing her head back in the invisible spotlight freeing it from the pins so it could gently sway with her hips, "Drownin' yah," her hips swayed dangerously low to the ground. "In," her smoky cadence dragged out the word, he could see her breathing heavily. Each breath emphasised her chest. "Coz Mister," she lowered her head to fully face him surprised at how enchanted he seemed by her impromptu performance of this song she'd only heard once through Molly's radio: "I'm your siren."

"That, you most certainly are, Miss Granger, continue, please!" he murmured.

With expert ease, Hermione pirouetted around in a circle and allowed the ringing silence to trick him into thinking the song was over and watched as he was about to say something: "Been told," she sang low, "There's only one-way outta This," she slunk her way closer to The Dark Lord, swaying her hips again as she ran her emerald green nails down her silk emerald down her corset stopping at the suspenders. "And mister," she knelt one knee one side of him, "that's your siren's kiss," she placed her other knee the other side of him trapping him into her embrace. His eyes were level with her breasts that seemed to swell with each breath in. "Been told," fingernails drew circles around his cheeks. "There's only one way outta this," she lowered her head. "And mister," her lips now a breath away from his. "That's your sirens…"

Hermione gulped as she knew this was the point of no return, with her hand placed on his heart she lowered herself onto his lap. Her fingers stroking his jawline.

"Kiss," he finished for her, she gulped down her fears as her lips were pulsing with want for his kiss.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I think we should kiss now," Lord Voldemort murmured, her lips gingerly touched his. Finally aware that she was actively seeking sexual congress with the man who had been responsible for orphaning her friend and brother. "Please try not to think of Potter it can do things to one's libido when a woman's mind is on another man whilst entertaining one, I can assure you."

To her credit, Hermione barely blushed at being caught out: "I am worried for him though."

"I have broadcast it amongst my followers that he is not to be harmed whilst you are my guest at Malfoy Manor. Whatever he is doing, he shall not succeed anyhow." He leaned up and left a trail of kisses down her throat, then worked his way to her jaw before nibbling her ear, "perhaps you should just worry about yourself," the wizard's lips moved as he spoke against her skin causing spikes of lust to cascade down her back, weakening her legs and curling her toes. "You have," kiss, "the most," kiss, "delicious," kiss, kiss, "flesh," kiss, kiss, kiss, then he had reached her breasts, one cupped in his hand whilst the other's nipple stood out begging to be licked and suckled. "Do you want me to finish this?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"Look at your lovely little breasts begging to be suckled," he curled his tongue around the teat before dragging it in his mouth and sucking it until she ached for something more. With that, he moved closer, ever so close, and began sucking in her breast, hollowing out his cheeks soaking her glands with his spit. "How gorgeous, how delightfully beautiful," he said as he let it go with a pop, such a satisfying sound.

"Wow," she gasped as she gulped down the moisture that had gathered in her throat, she bent her head down so her hair was like a curtain concealing them, hands were travelling down to his hips where his robe had gathered, "time," she kissed his forehead, "to," she licked down his cheek towards his jaw where he tilted his head up to catch her willing and pouting lips. Their hungry kisses were not entirely pretending as she lifted his robe, he scrambled with her fingers to gain nakedness as soon as possible so that skin could rub against the skin. Merlin, Morgana and Nimue, he could not wait to get inside and to have their sweat mingle. "Now," she gasped, "lie on your back and allow me, Master."

"Oh Voldemort, I insist," the man beneath her grinned as he lay back with his hands cradling his head and his arms winged out behind him giving her the semblance that he allowed her control, "Hermione!"

The sweat poured down her back as she widened her legs and sank down on his delicious extremely erect member, the witch was careful as she swallowed him inch by inch before she took all she could. The feel of his balls only excited her even further.

What was wrong with her? She was supposed to like nice boys like Ron not perverted Dark Lord's like Voldemort. However, Ron never gave her half the feelings of control with her sexuality like Voldemort had. Hell, Ron wouldn't even consider experimenting, which was normal. She'd spoken to Ginny and she said her, and Harry had discovered new things about themselves that neither suspected before. Wasn't it supposed to be like that with Ron? Wasn't she supposed to feel as if every time was the first time?

"What exactly do you wish from me, Master?"

"To move faster so that I can hear the slapping echo around the room. So I can swallow your groans as I kiss your delicious little mouth," he stroked up her thighs causing them to quiver, "for you not to think about how shockingly simple that redhead is compared to you. Remember, Hermione, I am a Master Legilimens. Your thoughts betray you!"

"I am sorry, Master, but so far you are better than Ron though it sort of saddens me to say!"

She yelped and winced at the same time as fingernails dug into her thighs and she stared down to see him smirk, "Move! Fast!"

Faster, she thought as she levered herself up only to push down again, the friction was incredible inside her and she found herself wanting to move as fast as she possibly could. The faster she went, the wetter she became the more the sounds of rough sex could be heard echoing around the room.

His hands slipped further up her thighs towards her hips where he began to control her rhythm setting upon her a gruelling pace that had sweat pour down her face and dripping down her neck, Voldemort sat back up and licked up her neck and suckled her ear causing her to gasp again. With each manoeuvre she was being thrust into a whole new dimension of lovemaking she did not think possible. The headboard rocked against the wall; the springs of the bed creaked beneath their vigorous movements.

"Wow," she said throatily as his fingers danced around her mons, stroking and pinching her clit hard at times, soft at others. "This is amazing!"

"I had a feeling you would find agreement with me," he said as his eyes flashed. Hermione deluded herself into thinking she had felt his hair as she twisted her hands around his bald head.

He flipped them over so that he was on top and she was gazing up at him, "For a monster you certainly have charisma and you possess a mesmeric quality that is irresistible," she sighed, "So complicated."

"Oh yes, such a complication," he said.

Voldemort gazed deeply into her eyes as he lowered himself into her allowing her to take in the new angle before he thrust in and out, fitting more of himself into her, the sound of sex once again resounded around the room. The thunk of the headboard, the rattle of the paintings, the way the sheets stuck to their increasingly sweating bodies. Hermione had never felt more confused and fulfilled in her entire life.

Hands were behind her head and entwined deeply with his so that no one could tell the difference, their nails dug into the soft flesh between the knuckles. Half-moon imprints painted crimson would be there for hours after. Their skin rubbing against each other's was amazing to feel. Like ordinary snakes, he was not slippery. By his clever fingers, she managed to crest the wave of an orgasm but now having a few minor ones as he continued in earnest from his hard brutal pace.

Hermione could barely keep up as she pounded into the mattress with all the grace and aplomb of a lion with a lioness. The soft mattress had almost swallowed her whole allowing the saying to be true in her case.

"Not being able to keep up!" she exclaimed.

That just increased his pace, blood rushed down both their cores where she arched back and thrust up to gain as much friction as she possibly could. Then she closed her eyes and screamed out his name as her come had poured out of her soaking his penis and balls as he entered into her system.

"Quo tincta!" he whispered after he shot his load deeply into her. Pushing until she was flooded with his seed.

Unable to take it anymore Voldemort collapsed on top of her to catch his breath, he sniffed in the scent of her sweat-soaked hair, "I had to wait 60 years but finally, I met my Armontentia – and I'm not going to let her go," he said rather pleased with himself.

"Wait that wasn't the deal!"

"When you find out the spell I whispered, then tell me if it was a good idea to go traipsing around the countryside."

She had forced herself to wrap her arms around him and her legs entwined with his. He was now lying on his side and brought her closer to him to keep her within his possession he'd hoarded as a child like he used to do. They almost fell asleep, but the door was being knocked from the other side.

"My Lord," a gruff voice sounded from behind.

"I am not to be disturbed!"

"But my Lord, we think we have some idea where the Potter kid is."

"Do not attempt anything."

"Don't hurt him," Hermione said worried he would break his promise to her. "Please?"

He glanced down at her wide, frightened eyes, her kiss swollen lips and her inner thighs soaked in his come, "I promise I won't," he said. "Starting now!"

"Hey!" she stood up angrily yelling, "what do you mean by that? What have you done? Answer me, damnit!"

"I owe no such thing to you, my dear," he turned around, the tick of his jaw meant he was keeping his fury tucked away by his stern voice, "however, as I promised no harm shall befall from my hands whilst you are here, now as I have to go – is there anything else?"

"No," she whispered. "Thank you for reminding me of the callous monster you are."

"You had best get used to it then, Little Dove, because I am going to consume you whole. You will forget every little bit you ever thought you knew. I will open up knowledge and power – because knowledge is power right, plus you've already slept with me. Deal with that how you like."

Hermione felt cold and ashamed, "I must have been under the imperius."

"Oh no, you do not get to play that trick on me, my Dove, you were open-minded and open to everything else I was prepared to offer you. Now, you best rest. Don't worry, no harm or foul shall happen to you on this – or any other night – I promise you that. Neither," he said in a higher more authoritative tone, "will your friend Mr Potter. Although," he said as he redressed himself and went back to the door, "you do realise I own you now. Lock," he stepped closer to her making her step back, "stock," he had decreased the distance between them whilst Hermione was trapped against the wall, "and barrel!"

He picked her chin up and gazed down at her still swollen lips, "No-one owns me."

He tilted his head to the side as if considering her statement, "No-one? Really? I just spilt my seed inside you, dwell on that Little Dove!" he pushed her face forward and met her lips. "Admit it, Dove, you like to be owned."

With that, he slammed the door shut.

Their lovemaking played like a vision in her brain, it was a ghost of dance now.

She paced the carpets with worry etched into the lines of her face, making her appear older than her nineteen years.

It was then Narcissa swept into the room and glanced at the lonely, frightened witch and sighed, carefully she pulled Hermione in a slow hug of comfort and friendship, "I will not allow you to be turned into Bellatrix Mark 2," she said fiercely. "Come on, come to our room and let's have a bath."

"Together?"

"Why not?" she shrugged, "I take one end of the bath and you the other, we can have wine and chocolate…"

"On top of the crazy things I've done today this has to be the most normal suggestion I've heard."

If Hermione knew what she was going to get up to in that bath she would have refused.

* * *

 **AN** : Yup this is smut all the way baby! lol!


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